


Fight or Flight

by crisiskris



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 18:14:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13440438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crisiskris/pseuds/crisiskris
Summary: Jean’s death has consequences for everyone.





	Fight or Flight

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after X2. This was written shortly after the movie came out, before any of the other installments, so there may be deviations from later-established canon.

The aftermath of Jean’s death at Alkali Lake nearly devastates them.  Scott locks himself away in their – his – bedroom and won’t come out.  Storm is overcome with grief for her lost sister, and it rains and rains.  Charles could help, but he is still too physically (or is that psychically?) unwell to be good to anyone; he needs time to recover his strength and balance.  He sits, hunched in his wheelchair, staring out his office window like he expects Jean to come walking up the drive. The students are a mess; lost and confused.  Some cry endlessly, while others withdraw into themselves.  Many of the boys and some of the girls fight viciously with each other over anything, no holds barred.

The only one relatively untouched by all this grief is Kurt Wagner, the incredible Nightcrawler.   Although sympathetic by nature, he did, after all, only know Jean Grey for a matter of days.  He is, however, at a bit of a loss. The only person he really knows or feels comfortable with is Storm, so he spends much of his time making sure she eats, holding her as she cries, and muttering prayers in her ear when the winds start picking up again.  He doesn’t know what else to do.

There is one other person left functioning in the mansion, though, and he handles his grief the way he handles every other problem in his life – by attacking it.  Logan shies away from the uncomfortable analogy, but it’s true that his responses are instinctual, animalistic: fight or flight.  So often before he met Rogue and the X-Men, he’s fled from emotional distress. This time he’s determined to fix things.

He tells himself it’s because the whole damn place would fall apart without him – and that might be true.  He tells himself it’s because he made a promise to Rogue that he wouldn’t abandon her, and that’s true as well.  But the real reason he’s still there, standing in the middle of the devastation when every fiber of his being is screaming at him to get the hell out now…he owes her something.  Jean gave him something the night that she turned him away.  It sounds odd, even to his own fragmented thinking.  But she showed him what dignity and compassion looked like when she made the right choice without becoming angry, without shunning him.  At the time, he was hurt.  Now, when she’s gone and he’ll never have a chance to tell her, he appreciates it.  She treated him like he was human. 

So he stays, and it takes less than a day for him to realize that everyone else is pretty much useless, with the exception of the teleporting freak with the tail.  His first order of business, therefore, is to unwrap the incredible Nightcrawler from the fiery Storm, who he’s sure can handle being sad all by herself for an hour or two.  He enters the room in his usually gruff way.

 “Hey blue boy,” he says, “Come ‘ere, I got a job for you.”  Nightcrawler briefly considers refusing, but Storm touches his arm gently, pushing him away.  He gets up and follows Logan out.

“We need to get these kids in order,” Logan states, stalking down the halls, breaking up fights left, right and center.  “You take that side, I’ll take this.”  Kurt watches, a little unsure, as Logan starts rounding the children up, sending them to one of the larger classrooms.  A piercing stare from the other man gets him moving, and although his style is much softer than Logan’s, he is surprised to see the children respond to him just as well.  

When everyone is in there, Logan does a headcount, and then lays down the law.  “All right,” he says.  “You’ve had a day to be complete fuck ups.  Fun’s over now.”  The kids glare back at him – does he really think this has been fun? Logan’s face doesn’t soften. “I know you’re hurting.  Everyone’s hurting.  But this is a school, and there are rules.”  He proceeds to set out some basic guidelines.  Everyone will sleep in their assigned beds at night – no hanging out in just anybody’s room like last night.  There will be a curfew.  Everyone will do their assigned chores.  There will be consequences for breaking the rules – and anyone caught fighting from now on will deal with him directly.  Only one other person in the whole room doesn’t shiver when Logan announces that, and it isn’t Kurt.  Rogue looks up at him and smiles.

Kurt has a sudden inspiration.  As Logan wraps up his speech, Kurt steps forward.  The other man is surprised, but moves aside.  “Classes will resume in one week,” he announces, putting confidence into his voice.  “There will be at least two – Professor Logan will teach Physical Education and Defense, and I will teach Power Control.  In addition, individual learning plans will be set up for History and English.”  The students groan; ‘Professor’ Logan looks a little pleased. 

A voice pipes up from the back; it’s the young man who was with Rogue in the jet.  “What about Art?” he asks, and the whole room breaks up in laughter.  It’s only been a day, but it only takes a day for the story of what happened at Bobby’s parents’ place, where Bobby introduced Logan as the art teacher, to get around.  Kurt is the only one who hasn’t heard it yet.  He looks confused.

“I’ll tell you later,” Logan promises.  Then he reminds the students that both he and Kurt are available any time, day or night - Kurt nods seriously when Logan’s questioning eyes meet his – if anyone needs to talk.  And he tells them, passionately, how important it is to talk.  Rogue smiles slightly at this, thinking it rather ironic that the one man who never talks about anything is encouraging them to share their feelings.  With that, Logan dismisses the students. 

As the room clears, Kurt walks over to Logan. “That was a very good thing you did, my friend,” he says, restraining himself from touching the other man’s arm.  It would be an appropriate gesture of comfort for anyone else, he recognizes.  For Logan, it would be too much.  The man isn’t used to comfort. Logan nods, grunting.  “They look – better.”

“You think so?”

“Yes.  They are still sad, but... Kids, they need…” Kurt trails off, trying to think of the right word in English.

Logan supplies him with one.  “Discipline,” he replies

Kurt shakes his head, smiling.  “Leadership,” he corrects gently.  Then he takes his leave, and Logan stands in the empty room alone, head bowed.  Kurt watches him from the doorway for a moment before he slips away.

 ***

The next day, Storm appears at the breakfast table for the first time.  It is Kitty and Jubilee’s turn to make breakfast, under Kurt’s watchful eyes, and everyone is eating blueberry pancakes.  The kids stifle their exclamations of surprise as Storm helps herself to one pancake and a glass of juice.  Peter, the large boy with the body armour, stumbles over his feet as he stands to pull her chair out.  She says, “Thank you.”  It’s the first time she’s spoken since the jet landed two days before.  It’s still raining outside, but it’s died down to a drizzle.

Logan doesn’t come down for breakfast and Storm is a bit disappointed.  So she leaves Kurt to assign the chores for the day and to supervise, and goes to find him.  He’s in the upstairs hallway, surveying the damage to one of the windows where the soldiers shot their way into the school.  He nods at her approach.  “I can fix that,” he says, “but I’ll need some supplies.” 

“We have a credit account at the hardware store in town,” Storm replies.  “I can get you the authorization number.”  He nods again. They turn and start towards Xavier’s office.  “I hear that classes are starting in a few days.”

Logan smiles a ghost of a smile.  “Apparently.  And apparently I’m ‘Professor Logan’.”  His voice carries a hint of uncertainty about the whole thing.

Storm smiles at him.  “You’ll do great.”  She looks distant for a moment, and then sighs.    “I suppose I better prepare some lesson plans.  I heard Bobby talking about individual lessons in History and English, but if you don’t mind me saying so, I doubt you’ve got much to say on the subject and Kurt, well…”

“Is German,” Logan almost laughed.  “I’d thought about that.”  He stops and looks Storm in the eye.  “Are you up to this?” he asks, seriously.  “Because I – I don’t remember much, but I can read, you know, well enough to prepare something…”

Storm shakes her head.  “We all have work to do, Logan.  I can do mine. Besides, as far as American history goes – aren’t you Canadian?”  She turns with a smile and opens the door to Xavier’s office.    Charles is sitting at his desk, his head bowed.  A plate of barely eaten blueberry pancakes sits beside him. 

“Hello Ororo, Logan,” he says quietly as they enter.  He follows their gaze to the plate.  “Jubilee brought those by half an hour ago.  I can’t say I feel much up to eating, however.”  He sighs, and holds out a card.  “Our authorization number at the hardware store, Logan.  And I think it’s an excellent idea to bring young Peter along with you.”  Logan looks annoyed.

“No offense, Professor, but I like it better when you don’t read my mind,” he growls, taking the card. 

Storm shakes her head.  “I think it’s wonderful,” she says emphatically. Charles has his powers back, and that’s all that matters.

“Yes, well, thank you.”  Charles looks down at his hands for a moment.  “I am quite aware that I am not in good health at the moment.  But I do realize that you are putting this school back together, piece by piece.  I hope to be a bigger part of that soon – but unlike our friend here,” he indicates Logan with a smile, “I do require medical attention.”

“Do you want me to take you into town with us?” Logan asks.  Charles shakes his head. 

“Actually, I was hoping you could pick up a friend of mine.  Dr. Henry McCoy.  The school will need a new doctor now that…now that…” Charles chokes up, unable to finish the sentence.  Storm feels tears prick her eyes.  Logan looks away.

“Right.  I’ll find him.”  He walks out without another word.  Charles’ eyes follow the man’s form, but he says nothing.  Storm feels the tears leak out of her eyes.  Charles reaches for her hand. 

After a moment, she wipes her eyes.  “I should go help Kurt with the students,” she says.  “He’s out there by himself.”  Charles smiles.

“Perhaps I will accompany you, for a few minutes,” he replies, wheeling out from behind his desk.  Side by side, they head back into the heart of the school.

 ***

Logan takes Peter with him to the hardware store.  They return two hours later, laden with supplies and a thin, gangly looking man with thick glasses.  “Dr. McCoy, how good to see you,” Charles says warmly, moving up to them as they enter the mansion.

The doctor laughs. “Please, Charles.  Call me Hank.  Why don’t you show me your medical facilities and then we can have a chat.”  They disappear down the hall. 

“He seems… small,” Storm says doubtfully. 

Peter smiles.  “He turns into a big blue beast,” he replies.  “He showed us in the car.”  Storm looks amused.  She glances at Logan, and there’s that shadow of a smile again, but he doesn’t comment.

“Excuse us, Storm,” he says.  “We got an outer wall to rebuild.”

The two work on the wall all day, shoring it up, reframing, and insulating it by nightfall.  The glass will be fit in the morning.  As they build, Logan slowly builds Peter up as well. “You did an amazing job takin’ care of all those kids,” he says casually as they hammer away.  Peter nearly drops his hammer.

“You think so?” he asks.  Ever since the soldiers had come, all Peter can think about is how he should have stayed with Logan instead of running away like a frightened child.

Logan seems to know this.  “I would have loved to have your help with the fighting, but I knew someone needed to keep things in order here.  I don’t think anyone could have done a better job.”  Peter nearly blushes at that.

“Thanks,” he mutters.  He goes back to hammering, but his face is flushed with pride, and when he walks away to go to bed that night, he walks a little taller.  Later, Kurt walks by just as a fight erupts inside one of the dorm rooms.  He stops, turning to enter the room, when he hears Peter’s rumbling bass inside.

“Knock it off, guys, go to sleep.” To Kurt’s surprise, the boys – a couple of the younger ones – stop immediately.

“Sorry, Peter,” one of them replies.  Things quiet down. 

“Don’t tell Professor Logan,” the other one whispers a few minutes later.  Kurt smiles. 

 ***

Under Hank’s meticulous care, Charles’ health improves to the point where he is able to resume his administrative duties.  His first decision as head of the school is, of course, to hire Hank as the school physician, and as the Chemistry and Biology teacher.  Charles himself feels ready to once again teach Physics and Math.

So, when school officially opens one week after Jean Grey’s death, it is with a full complement of courses and not just the throw-together Kurt had imagined.  The routine is important; getting back to normalcy is good for the students.

It’s good for the teachers too.  With so many students needing attention, Charles can’t afford to spend so much time staring off into space, as though if he concentrated hard enough Jean would magically appear.  Storm throws herself into her teaching; it gives her purpose, and the rain begins to dry up outside.  Hank, too, seems to delight in his new role as educator, although his teaching style prompts a quick staff meeting in which it was suggested that he reconsider some of his more convoluted language. 

Reflecting on the situation, even Kurt has to acknowledge that he’s found a measure of peace.  Having experienced what it was like to be out of control, he makes an excellent mentor for students learning to handle their powers.  He is gradually growing closer to Storm, a relationship he looks forward to very much, and his gentle demeanor has brought a surprising number of students to his door to talk.  They ask him questions about life as a mutant, tell them about their problems with their peers, or their families, or recount stories about Jean Grey and talk about how much they miss her.  Kurt finds it easy to listen and respond to them, and it isn’t long before he is the unofficial school counselor.

Logan continues to attack the repairs until they are finished, often enlisting the help of the older students.  Kurt, who is swift, but not particularly strong, sometimes watches as Logan directs the impromptu ‘shop’ class, quietly finding something to compliment in each student’s work and pretending not to notice the way they flush with pleasure and pride at his words.  He doesn’t put anyone on the spot, doesn’t call attention to them, but at the same time lets each one know that they’ve been noticed.  Kurt thinks it’s a remarkable talent.

Logan turns out to be an intuitive teacher, although hardly a patient one.  Storm and Charles have been helping the new teachers with lesson planning and the like, and during a staff meeting one day they all agree that it’s too soon after all the violence to teach self-defense lessons.  Instead, Logan comes up with an obstacle course, challenging but still fun, that allows them develop skills like coordination, quick reflexes, and decision making, without putting them into the context of a battle.  The plan works perfectly, and a little healthy competition develops among the students, helping them take their minds off other things.

Far fewer students approach Logan than any of the other staff, but he soon has an entourage of followers – six, to be exact.  There is Rogue, and her roommates Kitty and Jubilee.  There is Peter and Bobby, and a young boy named William who never sleeps, and spends his nights watching television.  Some of these students carry heavy burdens of remorse and guilt for what happened, but with Logan, they seem to start to open up, to let go of the pain bit by bit, and Kurt notices that they all smile a lot more than when he first met them.

As for Logan, well… Kurt doubts the man can let go of anything.  Storm and Charles both talk extensively about Jean and their grief, but Logan says nothing about his.  Still, Kurt is certain he is grieving – for such a passionate man, he rarely laughs, and his smile is always shadowed by the sadness in his eyes.  Kurt has seen Logan seem to be on the verge of tears one or two times, but they never fall.  Late at night, though, he wakes to the noise of someone slipping out the front door.  The first few times, he thought it might be a student, so he’d crept out to investigate.  Both times, Logan had given him a short wave, cigar in hand, without turning around as he walked into the bush.

Concerned, Kurt mentions Logan’s isolation to Charles.  The professor nods in understanding.  “It’s not good for him,” Kurt presses.  “Perhaps someone should speak with him.”

“Everyone handles grief in their own way,” Charles replies.  “Logan’s still busy fixing everything else.  Only once he’s assured that everyone else is safe will he turn his attention to himself.”  What he thinks, but does not say, is that when the time comes, he fully expects Logan to run again. 

“But everyone is okay,” Kurt says.  “I mean, everyone is getting better.”

Charles looks very sad at that.  “No,” he replies.  “There is still one person who has yet to begin healing.”

 ***

That person, of course, is Scott.  After the first day, the students take to leaving meals outside his door for him.  For a while they remain there, untouched, until the next student came by to clear the dishes away.   After Professor Xavier starts to get better, the plates start disappearing inside, reappearing hours later with the food half-eaten.  At least he is eating, but that’s all Charles can convince him to do.  Scott refuses to come out of his room, and when Charles presses, Scott slams his mental defenses into place, his skills made strong from years of living with a telepath.

“He’ll come around,” Storm comforts Charles that evening, but the words sound hollow to everyone.  Privately, they worry that this might have broken Scott forever. 

Initially, Logan stays out of the whole thing, figuring he’s about the worst person to try and be helping.  Eventually, however, his temper gets the best of him.  One evening, after listening the professor explain how he had been shut out from Scott’s thoughts yet again, Logan suddenly jumps up from his seat and stalks up to Scott’s room.  Without even thinking to knock, he barges in, nearly tearing the door off its hinges.

Scott sits in the middle of his bed in his underwear, clutching a picture of his dead fiancé.  His cheeks are red and splotchy from crying.  “What the hell are you doing?” he demands, standing up as Logan enters.

Logan snorts, moving to the dresser.  “Suicide watch,” he replies, yanking drawers open and throwing sweat pants and a t-shirt at the other man.  “It’s been two weeks, we weren’t sure if you were alive in here.”  He turns.  “Come on, it’s time to rejoin the human race.  Get dressed.”

Scott stands there, sputtering in the middle of the room.  “I don’t take orders from you!” he finally yells.

“No, you give them.  So get with it, fearless leader.”  Logan lights his cigar, an act he knows that Scott will hate.

True enough, Scott scowls.  “Put that out!”

“Make me.”

The ensuing fight catches the attention of the entire school.  By the time the other teachers get up there, Logan has his claws out, and Scott has blasted a hole in the bathroom door.  They are circling each other, cursing and swearing.  Then Logan pushes it over the edge.  “That’s all you’ve got?  *This* is the man Jean chose over me?” His lips curl into a terrible smile.

Scott’s response is to blast Logan so hard that he slams through the wall into the classroom beyond, and the only thing that saves his life is his healing factor.

Later that night, Storm rages at Kurt during what has become their customary evening tea.  “How could he say that?” She exclaims.  “Of all the – I knew Logan could be harsh, but that was heartless!”

“It worked,” Kurt points out softly.  This brings Storm up short.

“What?” She replies.  “What do you mean?”

“It was harsh, yes.  But Charles’ gentle reminders weren’t working. You softly knocking at his door wasn’t working.  Us leaving him alone and giving him time wasn’t working.  Logan might have bullied him out of his room – but it worked.”

Storm considers it.  It’s true – Scott had stayed out of his room after the fight.  He’d had a long talk with Charles, and then joined the entire student body for dinner.  Now he is downstairs working on one of the cars, and she is certain a few of the male students have drifted down to watch.  He still looks haunted and overwrought, but he is out.

She returns her attention to the man before her, who finishes, “He did what he had to do.”

Storm looks thoughtful.  “He made himself the bad guy.”

“And it worked.”

 ***

Over the next few days, Scott appears more and more.  Mostly he’s just a ghost in the mansion, sitting silently at meals or disappearing with Charles for hours at a time.  Every once in a while, though, he seems to sit up and take notice of the world around him, chatting with a student in the hall or joining the staff for tea.  He isn’t teaching, and has explained that he has no desire to, not yet, but he is interacting, and he’s looking more alive than he has since Jean was lost.  Kurt notices Logan nodding in satisfaction.

Later that night, Kurt lays awake, waiting for the sound.  Ordinarily, the soft opening and closing of the front door would wake him from his light slumber, but he knows that tonight it will be so quiet that he would sleep through it.  Even awake, Kurt nearly misses it.  Belatedly, he hears the latch, and hurries to the hallway window in time to see Logan trudging down the drive, wheeling Scott’s motorcycle beside him.  Once he makes it to the road, Kurt knows, there’s no catching up.

Making a quick decision, Kurt teleports to the other man’s side, his reappearance startling Logan.  Without warning, he finds himself lying on the ground with a claw at his throat.  Logan growls, and then recognizes his ‘attacker’ and lets Kurt stand up. He puts the bike up on the kickstand and retracts his claws, lighting a cigar.

“Where are you going, my friend?”  Kurt asks in his soft voice.

Logan smiles his ghost of a smile.  “I should have known better than to try and sneak past you,” he replies.  Kurt says nothing, waiting, as Logan blows out smoke.  “Ah, hell, Wagner, I can’t stay here any longer.  It – I – hell, you don’t need me anymore.”

Kurt nods.  “No.”  Logan’s face darkens and he turns back to the bike.  Kurt’s hand on his arm catches his attention.  “We don’t *need* you, Logan,” he continues.  “We *want* you here.  Please stay.”

Logan lets out a bark that could almost be a laugh.  “Only one person actually wants me here,” he replies, “And she’s still young enough to think I’m some kind of hero.”

Kurt wants to tell him that he is, but he knows it’s the wrong thing to say.  Instead, he replies, “I want you here, my friend.”

“Fine, two people,” Logan concedes, smiling for real this time. 

Kurt won’t let it go.  “What about Bobby?  And Peter?  And Charles and Storm?”

Logan shakes his head.  “They don’t want *me*, Wagner,” he replies earnestly.  “They want a role model, a defense teacher.  Scott can do that. Scott should do that.”  He scowls up at the sky as it begins to rain.  “God damn.  Now let me go – I wanna put some miles between me and this weather.”

Desperately, Kurt hops up onto the bike handles.  The rain is falling harder now, slicking the road, making it difficult to see.  “Just give me one week, Logan,” he bargains, raising his voice over the splatter.  “One week, and if you still feel you’re not wanted, then you are free to go wherever you choose.”  He smiles appeasingly.  “And I’ll convince Storm to make sure you have clear skies all the way.”  As if on cue, a great clap of thunder sounds, lightning flashes in the sky, and the downpour becomes a torrent.

Logan swears – there’s no way he’s going anywhere in this storm.  “Fine,” he growls.  He pulls the collar of his jacket up around his ears.  “One week.  Now let’s get out of this mess.”

 ***

After escorting a grumbling, soaking wet Logan to his room, Kurt stops by Ororo’s and peers in the door.  She appears to be sleeping, her breath rising and falling in a deep, even rhythm while the storm outside continues unabated.  Kurt is almost ready to consider the weather a natural occurrence when he notices something. 

“You don’t usually sleep with your shoes on,” he comments.  Storm doesn’t open her eyes, but she can’t stop the grin from spreading across her face.  Kurt smiles too, and then grows serious. “He gave me one week,” he informs her, then tip toes away.  He has only seven days to convince Logan to stay, and he’s going to need some help.

***

The next morning, Rogue is woken by an urgent knocking on her dorm room door.  She nestles further down into her comforting, but the knocking doesn’t stop.  She groans and pulls her pillow over her head, but the knocking continues until Kitty finally leaps out of bed, throwing her covers to one side in disgust.  She stalks over to the door and sticks her head out, hollering, “Who are you and what the hell do you – oh, sorry, Professor.”

Kurt jumps back, unnerved by the site of her disembodied head sticking out of the closed door.  He ducks his head for a moment, and then grins.  “Pardon me,” he says, “I realize it’s very early, but I require your assistance.”

By breakfast, thanks to Jubilee’s staggering ability to gossip, the whole school knows that something’s up with Logan and he needs, as the Asian girl so colorfully puts it, “a little lovin’”.  They also know, however, that they can’t be too obvious about it; the children have already sensed that their affections scare Logan more than any bogeyman ever could, and they keep it tame around him, being cool and giving him some distance.  Breakfast is a bit quieter than usual; Jubilee doesn’t give out details, but everyone can sense that Logan’s pulling away, and although no one says it, they all understand – it’s up to them to make him see that he must stay.

The first one to act is Peter.  Like usual, Logan doesn’t come down for breakfast.  Ordinarily no one does anything about this; the man will eat when he wants to eat.  But this morning, Peter grabs up two plates, piles eggs and sausage and toast on each of them, and disappears to the third floor History classroom.  Sure enough, Logan is there, repairing some damage to the outer wall.  Peter plunks one plate down in front of him, hunkers down with the other, and starts eating.  He pretends not to see the look of surprise on Logan’s face, but he acknowledges the soft, “thanks,” with a nod.

“Missed your company,” he says through bites of egg.  “Can’t stand sitting around all those girls for the whole damn morning.” 

Logan smiles.  “Let me guess – Brad Pitt?”

“He really doesn’t make a good Achilles – I mean come on, Brad Pitt?  But do they think about his acting abilities?  Not even for a second!”  Peter stabs a bit of sausage, playing up the grump.  Logan almost even laughs.

Kurt wanders past the hallway later than morning and finds that the two are engrossed in conversation, plates long since set aside.  He pauses long enough to hear Peter say, “You know, when the soldiers came, all I could think of was that you must not respect me or trust me, to not want me fighting with you.”  He holds a hand up so Logan can’t interrupt.  “I get it now.  But I wanted to tell you – it – it matters that you respect me.  I value your opinion of me.”

“Thanks, kid,” Logan replies, gruff, surprised. 

Peter nods.  “Most of the teachers here, well – they don’t come from where I come from, you know what I mean?  I mean, Ms. Munroe was raised as a goddess in Africa.  Professor Xavier obviously came from money, Mr. Wagner was in a circus – which is just weird – and Mr. Summers, give me a break.  Prep school drop out.  I came from the wrong side of the tracks, you know?  I was fighting almost by the time I was walking.  I don’t – I never met anyone, any adult I mean, who got that.”

Logan is very quiet for a few minutes.  Then he nods. “Yeah, I get that,” he replies. 

Peter nods.  “Good.  Because there are a lot of us here, you know, who’ve had to go there.  And it matters when someone who’s *been there* says that you’re doing well. I just wanted you to know that.”

Logan smiles genuinely.  “Thanks,” he says again.  “Now get out of here before this gets emotional.” 

Peter grins and lumbers to his feet.  “Yeah.  Next thing you know, I’ll be waxing poetic about Brad Pitt.”  Laughing, he picks up the dishes and walks away.  Kurt smiles, moving on before the boy can see him – and before Logan gets wind of him and gets suspicious.

 ***  
Later that afternoon, Storm finds herself hanging around the staff lounge, waiting.  She’s already put on a fresh pot of coffee, which Logan of course appreciates the minute he walks in and smells it.  “Ah, I could kiss you,” he says thankfully, pouring himself a cup.

“If it keeps you here,” she replies, and the lightness disappears from his face.

“Ororo…” he starts.  She hushes him.

“Of course I am aware of what’s going on.  And no, Kurt didn’t say anything to me.  I saw you take Scott’s bike last night.”  She sits beside him, setting her tea cup down, and restrains herself from reaching over to touch him.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I thought I heard a noise in the garage.”  Logan gives a little snort of laughter.

“Must be getting soft,” he comments, eyes haunted and lost.  “I didn’t even smell you.”

“Maybe you’re just tired, and grieving,” she suggested.  “It’s okay for that to be.”

Logan shook his head.  “No, it’s not.” He replied.  Whatever Storm might have said in response, he cut her off with a sharp gesture.  “Don’t push it, Storm.  Okay?  It’s not your business.”

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“I don’t think I can stay.” 

“Logan…”

He stands, agitated.  “Leave it alone!” He exclaims, a little too loudly.  “Fuck.”  He takes a deep breath, sets his coffee cup down by the sink.  “Thanks for the coffee.”  He closes his eyes for a moment before straightening his shoulders and walking out.  Storm watches him go, feeling terrible, trying to ignore the worry building in her stomach that she just made things that much worse.

 ***

Six nights later, Logan sits up in bed, chest heaving. The dreams are worse than ever – now, instead of just seeing himself lying in a tank, or remembering the feelings of scalpels carving into flesh, the heat of Adamantium being poured against his bones, he sees all this and Jean.  Sometimes Jean is standing over him, cutting into him.  Sometimes she is next to him in a tank of her own, getting cut.  Always, she turns to him and says, just before he’s able to claw his way back to consciousness, “It’s your fault.”

Logan runs a shaking hand over his face, willing the images to go away.  He’s pretty sure he didn’t scream this time, which is a good thing, since that usually brings some student or other running to his door, frightened and in need of comfort, and he doesn’t think he can dredge up the energy to help anyone else right now.

He spends a long time in the bathroom, splashing water on his face and the back of his neck.   There’s no way he’s going to get any sleep tonight, so he pads out on silent feet toward the front door.  William, the TV kid, is sitting in the living room.  “Couldn’t sleep?” he says, flipping through the channels.

“How’d you know?” Logan supplies his line from the old joke.

William stops flipping to look at him and deadpan, “You’re awake.”  Then the kid grins; Logan finds himself grinning back.  It’s the first time he’s smiled in so long…

Banishing the thought, he sits down and says, gruffly, “Change the channel, kid.”  The kid obliges.  They sit in silence, watching TV for a while, and then William turns to him.

“You know, Logan, the whole school is talking about you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Everyone’s talking about how we have to make you stay because you’re going to run away tomorrow.” 

“It’s not like that,” Logan tries to explain, but the kid doesn’t let him talk.

“I don’t care what it’s like or not like,” he interrupts.  “I just want you to know that if you went, I’d miss you.”  He turns back to the television. 

Logan is surprised.  “Really?” he asks.  “We barely even see each other all day; what would you miss me for?”

William shakes his head like Logan is the dumbest person he’s ever come across.  “Duh – we see each other practically every night.  I did mention that I don’t sleep, right?  Ever?  Well it gets kind of lonely at night you know.  You’re the only other person here that’s up at 3:30 in the morning.”

“Huh.” Logan sits back, thoughtful.  Lots of kids have been telling him how they feel about him, but most of it he’s dismissed as things that the other adults could have done.  The only exception was Rogue, and he’d spent all week preparing to say goodbye to her again, convincing himself that she was better off without him.  But this kid is different.  For one thing, he’s the only one so far who’s been willing to be honest about the fact that the entire school is plotting against him, thanks to the blue teleporting devil.  He’s also the only person who hasn’t actually asked him to stay.  ‘I’d miss you,’ is something very different.  Logan’s not used to being something that someone might miss.

He gets up, his head in a fog, walks back to his room and lies down on his bed lost in thought.  Eventually he drifts away, and it’s only when the sun is pouring through his window and he can hear kids laughing in the hallways that he realizes he was going to leave last night, sneak away before his seven day thinking period was up – before anyone would try to put him on the spot.  Shit.

For a brief moment, Logan considers what it might be like to stay, to be a member of this school for real, and not just a drifter on his way through.  And then he remembers Jean, sharply, like at any moment he might inhale her scent.  And the stab of grief that spikes through him feels like it’s going to take him to his knees.  He can’t.  He just can’t.  Furious, denying that he’s angry at himself, he starts packing his meager possessions into a bag.

There’s a sound at his door and he whirls around, guilt and anger warring across his face.  Scott, of all people, is standing there, a smirk on his face and his arms crossed.  “Running away, Logan?” he taunts. 

Logan scowls.  “Don’t start with me, Summers,” he warns, tightening the straps on the pack.

“Why?  Because you want to make a clean getaway, and I’m interfering with those plans?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”  Logan pulls on his boots, reaches for his coat, and heads for the door, only to find Scott blocking it.

“Cyclops,” he says, remembering the first time he said it, “You wanna get out of my way.”  Jean was there, she was behind him, she was watching him - that was the first day he met Jean.  Logan takes a deep breath against the memory and growls: “Move!”  Scott stands like a rock.

“Why do you get to be the spoiled little kid, Logan?”  He asks sincerely. “Why do you get to bolt when it gets too hard, and leave us to pick up the pieces?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Logan tries to deny it, but he can’t look at Scott’s face when he says it.

“I’m talking about the kids, first of all,” Scott replies.  “You *know* how they feel about you.  How much, for god knows what naïve and stupid reason, they love you.  And you’re gonna just walk out – leaving us to deal with all that grief and loss, after so much has happened?” He takes a step closer, pushing Logan back into the room, his face dark.  “And I’m talking about how fucking unfair it is that I have to feel like my heart’s been ripped out of my chest, and still get up and go on and be *present*, while you don’t even have to say the words out loud, say how much you miss my Jeannie!”  He’s yelling now, pushed up against Logan, nearly spitting in the other man’s face.

Logan takes a breath to argue back, to deny it all, but what comes out is an anguished cry.  “I have no right!” he shouts back, tears pricking in his eyes.

That stops Scott up short.  “What?” he takes a step back, creating breathing room.

“I have no right to be here – this isn’t mine!  And I have no right to grieve her because she’s yours, not mine, don’t you understand?  None of it’s *mine*.”  And damned if he isn’t crying now, desperately trying not to, the tears coming anyway.  He stumbles back a few steps until his back is against the wall, and then slides down it. “I – how can I feel so much for something that wasn’t even mine?  And then I think, I can’t lose another thing, I can’t lose one more thing, not one more thing, not even a little thing – I don’t have anything and I can’t lose any more because I’ve lost everything, and nothing’s mine, I don’t know what’s mine, I can’t do this.”  He’s babbling, he’s not making any sense, and his shoulders are shaking now.  Logan covers his face with his hands, sobbing.

And then Scott’s there, kneeling beside him, grasping his shoulders firmly.  “You have this,” he whispers roughly.  “You have yourself, what you feel.  And whether you like or not, you have this school, these kids.  You have people who want to be your friend, whether you want to see it or not.”

Logan pushes against the grip, but Scott won’t let go.  “Are you trying to tell me that *you* want to be my friend?”

“No, dumb ass,” Scott replies.  “But I’ll be your fearless leader.”  Logan snorts, dragging one hand across his eyes, wiping away the tears.  Scott lets him go and he leans back against the wall. 

“Oh, god,” Logan breathes after a moment, his voice shaking.  “This is shit.”

Scott nods tightly.  He stands and picks up Logan’s pack, unpacking it and thrusting the contents back into the dresser drawers.  “Yes, it is.  But you’ll just have to deal with it.” 

 ***

When Logan finally comes out of his room, twenty minutes later, Rogue is sitting on the floor.  She jumps up and pushes him back in.  “You’re staying, aren’t you?” She demands.  “Mr. Summers said you were staying.  Aren’t you?”  She’s crying steadily, and Logan is caught unprepared.

“Whoa,” he says, pulling her to him, wrapping his arms carefully around her so that he doesn’t touch her skin. “What’s all this?”  Rogue wails in his arms.

“You were going to leave me again,” she accuses, hiccupping.  “You’ve been hinting at it all week.  ‘Marie, if anything ever changed, if I ever had to go somewhere, it wouldn’t be because of you.’  ‘Marie, this school is important and you need to stick it through no matter what.’  Did you think I was totally stupid?”  She punches him in the chest, surprisingly hard for a weeping girl.

“Ow. No.” He replies, rubbing his ribs.  “Hey, relax.  I’m not going anywhere.  I’m going to stay, okay?”

“For real?” Logan looks at her and realizes that although she’s grown up a lot in the last few weeks, inside her there is still the scared little girl that tried to hide in his trailer back in Laughlin City, hoping for some protection.

He nods, uses his sleeve to wipe away her tears.  “For real,” he promises. “I won’t leave you.”

“Good.  Then come down to lunch.”  She wipes her eyes, and then looks at him closely.  “On second thought – go have a shower.  You look like shit.”

“Watch your language.” He warns, but there’s no anger in his voice.

“Yes, Professor,” she mocks back, and slips out the door.

Left alone, Logan falls against his bed.  He feels more tired and older than he can ever remember feeling.  That’s his little joke with himself, of course, because he can’t really remember anything.  Maybe he’s felt this way before and he just doesn’t know it.  He lies back against the pillows and puts his arm across his eyes.   That’s the whole thing, isn’t it?  It’s not just that Jean is dead – it’s not like he loved her, really.  He wanted her, he respected her.  But it’s not that.  It’s that when Jean talked to him, he felt like a member of the human race, and when she died, well – it’s like his chance at humanity was all wrapped up in her, and without her…

“I really can’t stand to lose anyone else,” he remarks to the room, feeling his heart speed up with the fear that he’ll get close to these kids, to these people, and someone else will die.  But when he considers repacking the bag and bolting now, he knows he couldn’t do it.  He’s not an animal; he can’t just flee from danger.  He has to consider all the others.  The fear of losing people that he loves is being balanced by a stronger fear – never having anything to love at all. 

After a few minutes, he picks himself up, starts the shower, and stands under the stream until the hot water runs out.  Then he dries off, gets dressed, and goes downstairs. 

 ***

Late that night, Kurt hears the soft clicking sound of a door being opened and shut.  He gets up and pads out on his silent feet, peering through the window.  Logan stands in the driveway, patting down his pockets, chewing on an unlit cigar.  As Kurt comes out the door, Logan finds a match and lights it, giving Kurt a quick wave as he walks towards the trees.  “Not this time,” Kurt whispers to himself.  He teleports over to Logan’s side, and is thankful that he doesn’t end up on his ass with Adamantium claws against his neck.  Instead, Logan almost smiles at him.  He reaches into his coat pocket and withdraws another cigar, offering it to the other man.  Kurt accepts it with a smile.

“Huh.”  Logan fishes around for another match.  “I wasn’t sure if you smoked.”

“Well, we are only getting to know one another,” Kurt replies reasonably.  They walk through the night time forest in silence, together.


End file.
